


Thin Walls

by night_in_hell



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Even Bech Næsheim - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Isak Valtersen - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/night_in_hell/pseuds/night_in_hell
Summary: 'It wasn't as though Even was really accustomed to the telltale signs of crying, but- yeah he was accustomed to the telltale signs of crying. He played with the idea that it was just a movie playing too loudly next door, or perhaps he yearned for it to be, hoped it wouldn't be someone suffering in the dead of night, but the scene would've been so long, and there was no actor that talented, no one that could wholly fake those sobs.'Or Even and Isak are neighbors and some thin walls bring the two together in ways neither really could've expected.





	1. Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was part of a thread on @evaesheim's twitter. Go check out the acc!

It's not as though the apartment is all that shitty. Okay, yes, it's shitty, but it has its moments, it works well enough, and Even is generally content with it. It’s kinda defective, sure, though he does his best to defend it. There’s a window seat- which is honestly heavenly- where he sketches in the natural lighting that distorts only minutely from the cheap glass. Or he smokes there, cracking it open while it whines awfully in protest, god knows how old the framing is. There's also a good sized kitchen, and despite it having been a selling point, he admits rather guiltily in having not used its full potential yet since moving in a few months ago. But he’s also been faced with more unforgivable issues. The faucet broke first, the primary light switch second, squeaky floorboards came in third, and frankly, his grainy, filthy walls were where the main problem resided. His initial observations were that the wallpaper was dusty and cracking in odd, unreachable places, but it still had a kind warmth to its color, and it softened the room to a comfortable, familiar hue. But he’d since realized that the walls were _pretty fucking thin_.

The first night he realized it, a muffled breed of incomprehensible, doleful noises beckoned to him with its surprising volume, and initially it had filled him with dread because...no, he didn't want to hear his neighbors’ endeavors, and honestly, he was more than slightly in a state of stubborn denial about it. Like maybe he’d forgotten to close the window or some strange, subdued cries were coming from some weird rodent in the wall. He didn't have time to fully mull those options over before the noise was being drawn back to his attention, before dying again and leaving his room in a now heavy, uncomfortably stagnant silence. After having checked his window, Even pressed his ear against the weeping wall and waited for more of it, which wasn't a long moment, as it came back stronger, regardless of his now close proximity to it, there was an incessant and patently heartbreaking desperation to it. And, okay, it wasn't as though Even was really accustomed to the telltale signs of crying, but- yeah he was accustomed to the telltale signs of crying. Maybe it was a movie playing, or perhaps he yearned for it to be, hoped it wouldn't be someone suffering in the dead of night, but the scene would've been so long, and there was no actor that talented, no one that could wholly fake those sobs. Even sighed and pulled away, feeling helpless as his neighbor continued, now as quiet as he'd first heard it, but still so much more defined and painfully inconsolable now that he knew the implications of the noise were a much more dismal reality than he'd anticipated. 

He'd paced around near the walls until his neighbor had quieted after a distressing amount of time. Even later found sleep but it was a fitful rest, one where his mind wouldn’t quite stop his urgency of concern.

The next night, Even was met with those same noises. And the night after that. And that. And, okay, as much as Even felt not only inclined but almost restlessly in need to help the boy next door, he didn't want to _immediately_ intrude. Something that personal isn’t a neighborly conversation starter, it was too involved in issues that weren’t any of his business. So, without much internal convincing, Even decides to do something a little less invasive and a little more anonymously... reassuring. For now. He needed to start small, and he _vehemently_ intended to do so, buy flowers or something, maybe putting the kitchen to work and baking something to step out of the shadows and meet his neighbor- that was until an otherwise hushed night turned quite disconcerting when the muted atmosphere of his apartment was met with a startling crash in the room next door. Whatever plans he had were trampled as he sprinted ungracefully out of his apartment and to the identical colored one next to his. His knocks were precisely the tone he didn’t want to start with, loud and in quick succession, but he thought that to be irrelevant when he heard some more commotion and some choice swearing from inside. So apparently the doors were thin, too.

“Yeah, coming!” and Even waited, biting his lower lip instinctively before the most beautiful boy with the saddest, most confused, red, puffy eyes opened the door. 

“Hi,” Even let out dumbly after an awkward moment of cramped silence, very nearly forgetting why he’d come over, not certain of his current bravery or if and when he’d ever had it, mouth slightly open, vision clear from his widened gaze.

“Hi…” the boy looks to try to momentarily hide his face with his sleeve, narrowing his eyes and turning his head as he anticipates Even’s explanation. He coughs as none comes, sniffling as he lowers his head, and Even manages to snap out of it.

“Uh, I heard a crash or something and I was checking to make sure you were alright. I’m Even, by the way. Your neighbor.” He blinks and purses his lips, mentally rewriting how this should’ve gone instead of his useless ramblings.

“Oh. Uhh- Isak," the boy glances up with a pitifully meager smile. "And, yeah, sorry about that. I- uhh- I tripped and some books fell, so…” there falls again the same deadened air while Even stares before coming to his senses once more. He breathed in, filling his lungs hastily.

“Yeah! Yeah, okay, just...yeah. I’ll just-” Even motioned his thumb towards his door and smiled, but it felt a little peculiar on his lips. He wanted to say more but the manner in which Isak was handling himself, shifting on his feet and now looking decidedly _anywhere_ other than Even, he elected it would be more beneficial to the both of them to save face and make his exit. He nodded at him and watched the other one slip back into his room with another cough and his own sharp nod. He frowned as he walked back home. He wasn’t intending to give up on the sad boy due to one poor encounter. Plans were back to being formed in his head, more carefully, more thoughtfully.


	2. Less Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even tries some more but Isak is shy and closed off, yet progress is still made.

Thoughtful was a little too slow for Even’s liking. He wanted everything to be perfect and _not_ creepy and just _comforting_ , but sometimes your neighbors cry at night and don't leave you with much time to process decent plans before you’re inspired to help them, earnestly. 

He'd (unintentionally) listen every night, but it felt so wrong, so nosy, like it was a twisted form of entertainment. _Not_ that he enjoyed it, it was in fact incredibly distressing, but it was hard to ignore given the blatancy of their lack of privacy. 

Two days after having met Isak, Even more or less- but he'd only admit less- made certain he'd run into him in the hall. Again, _thin walls_ ; he heard Isak’s door open and Even essentially tumbled out of his apartment and caught him as he was leaving the building, acting of course completely casually as though ‘what a coincidence that they were _both_ leaving at the _same time_!’ Doing his best with forming intelligent sentences unlike his last meeting, Even attempted to engage Isak in friendly conversation, but Isak was either in a hurry or Even’s presence spurred him to pretend to be in one, and really Isak only managed a half hearted hello and a mumbled “see you.” But Even was nothing if not persistent. 

The next day, Isak was outside their complex when Even was getting home from work, which voided his own envisages. He was grateful, of course.

Isak was staring down at his phone, elbows resting on his knees, maroon snapback facing forward, unaware for the moment that Even had approached him. He dragged his foot to try and alert him faux-naturally instead of startling him, which seemed to be all Even was capable of. Sure enough, Isak looked up, green eyes full of hesitant recognition, but he smiled at Even, still not what he'd assume was entirely genuine but it was more than he'd ever received previously. Even grinned back, waving and giving Isak his kindest ‘hello.’

“Hey,” Isak said, gaze almost frenzied as it switched fluidly from Even to the ground to his phone to the grass and back to Even, repeat. 

“What’s up?” And he tried to mask the genuine nature of the inquiry, going for borderline indifferent while maintaining his amiability. Isak doesn't seem to care how it turned out. He shrugs and huffs out a breath, reaching up to rub his nose. 

“Uh, nothing. ‘S nice out and- yeah. You?” Even beams again, losing his determined focus in the process, stunting his outlined conversation. 

“I just got off work,” he says with nothing to follow that up with, feeling stupid for the third time around Isak, smiling while all the erroneous words form and fall disappointingly in his head. Isak notices that Even seems to be done, or struggling (it's both), and smiles politely, returning to his phone, his cheeks growing a little red. It's adorable, but Even is a little focused on his ineptitude at human interaction at the moment. 

“See you around?” And he makes his exit as smoothly as he can but as quickly, too. 

-

Isak’s nights are still pretty rough, to Even’s perceptions, and the thing is, Even doesn’t know what Isak’s going through- how could he?- and he doesn’t know if him crying is therapeutic- sometimes it is for Even. He just wants to do his part in making Isak happy. Maybe nights are Isak’s time, no matter how much it hurts Even to hear... but also, he can't just idly witness. 

He sees and speaks with Isak a few more times, getting more and more on Isak’s end, before Even feels comfortable enough to do something a little braver, a little bolder without spooking Isak. He’s learned where he goes to school and what he studies and has even seen him at a café not too far from their apartment building, all from the smallest of conversations. It was a slow process, but a pleasant one. He builds from there, going to the café a lot more than necessary and certainly more than the amount of coffee he normally drank justified, all in hopes to see Isak. 

Fate once again does its job (with assistance from his constancy, of course) for Even on a rainy day, sweeping his plans from under him as well as satisfying them. He’s sitting near a window where the water is streaming wildly down the glass, racing to the ground. He’s drawing and sipping on his coffee when Isak walks in, not wearing a proper rain jacket and looking soaked and miserable. He notices Even almost immediately and his frown morphs beautifully into a soft grin. He makes his way to the counter and Even watches as he orders and pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t hear so much as infer that Isak doesn’t have money, based on the frantic movements of his hands scouring his wallet and the side of his red cheek, seemingly even darker than they’d been when he’d seen him step inside the café. The barista was now looking annoyed and Isak was still searching, so Even stood and made his way to the both of them. 

“Hey, I’ll pay,” he says, taking out enough kroner and placing it on the counter, to the apparent relief of the barista. Isak’s gaze is unavoidable, it’s burning, so he turns to him while they move away from the line behind them. Isak’s mouth is faintly open and those _cheeks_ are so adorably _crimson_. 

“God, sorry about that. You didn’t have to, though,” Isak shakes his head near feverently. “I can’t fucking believe I forgot money,” and he laughed nervously with a hand holding the back of his neck, rubbing his damp hair at the nape. Even smiled.

“No worries, Isak. Happy to help.” Isak returns the smile, wider this time, and gives him a quiet ‘thanks’ before Even speaks again. “If you wanna join me, the table I’m at has an extra seat. Yours for the taking.” His lips pull upwards again. He can’t even help it. He’s a beaming mess around Isak, from a combination of shameless fondness and a desire to see Isak’s cute lips copy the gesture. 

“Uh, sure! Yeah, I don’t wanna go back out in that just yet, anyway,” he juts his thumb towards the door where the rain is still bombarding the building. Even nods and goes back to the table while Isak waits for his order. 

Okay, Even doesn’t really see Isak as his crying neighbor, not when they’re not separated by thin walls, he doesn’t hear the sadness in his voice, and hardly sees it in his eyes. But it’s there. It hides quite skillfully behind his green irises, but it’s _there_. And, yes, _absolutely_ he wants to do his best to dry his tears, but he also knows he’s not a project and getting to know him more, even in moments such as these, Even sincerely wants to be his friend. He’s shy and sweet and seems to try his best to be as accommodating and understanding as can be. Even's realized he very simply adores Isak.

He walks into view as Even’s sitting embarrassingly zoned out thinking about him, the chair squeaking as he pulls it out and again when he scoots it in towards the table. Isak takes a while to meet his gaze.

“I can pay you back, by the way. Sometime, for sure,” and Even is unable to _not_ note the uncertain look in Isak’s eyes, and opts to steer them away to avoid any discomfort for the boy across from him. He smiles. 

“Isak, it’s okay. It’s no big deal,” but Isak looks thoroughly unconvinced. “Really,” he adds with all the sincerity he possessed. Isak timidly reveals his gapped teeth as his cheeks rise, ducking his head ever slightly. 

“Thanks again.”

“Anytime.” And they don’t speak much from there, but it’s not the same as before when the stillness surrounding them was stuffy and uneasy. No, it was peaceful and content as they went back to their respective inner worlds. Even sketching with gentle strokes of the pencil and Isak reading and highlighting a textbook, both stopping only for their coffee and for stolen glances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think if you feel like it! Thanks for reading :)


	3. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even and Isak get just a bit closer, thanks to fate yet again.

Plans, plans, plans don’t work! They don’t! Even’s tried and readjusted but he’s since retired any and all for the sake of sparing the waning patience of his (in)capabilities to carry out organized actions. Even hasn’t lost sight, though, he’s just...coming to his senses. Because Isak is still crying. Still, almost every night, but he’s begun this reiteration in his head, that he doesn’t need to do anything proactive because Isak is a human, not a project, using it over and over to stop himself from being forward and prying with Isak. And thus it’s such an odd dynamic they have. Even pretending he doesn’t know and Isak pretending he’s alright. Or maybe he…is alright, and so maybe their dynamic is more akin to a short term memory loss of when he’s with Isak, however brief, he forgets momentarily of the reason he started making an effort…. His interest in Isak has somehow paid off from the very beginning, anyway. It’s not as though they’re friends but it’s ever closer to that reality, and he’s inclined to let his mind free now, allowing himself to go with the flow, with whatever happens. He’s happy enough when the random opportunity arises to speak with Isak. Or even see him. The thrill of it and the fact that it’s much more a mutual surprise than Even kind-of scheming and Isak being a victim of what Even feels is distrustful, conniving interest. But then again….

Okay, so maybe Even is conflicted. Fully torn between his options going forward. He’s restless at night, like this night, like all nights. On nights where Isak is crying like this. Alone. Both alone and yet the only distance a thin wall dividing them. Right now, he’s slouched in the chair closest to their shared wall. He’d heard, as he sometimes does, a fist hitting wood, and he’s compelled to sit up, heart pounding and skin chilled, and then the first sob sounds. It bleeds through the wallpaper and reaching over to touch it, Even can almost feel it on his fingertips. Preach all the morals he can, but he's nonetheless incapable of not feeling Isak’s pain with each cry. It's impossible not to picture him in there, impossible not to want to offer support, comfort, _anything_. Impossible.

And Even is conflicted here, too, on days like this, like all days, where Isak is smiling, wider and wider with each visit, and opening up with bright conversations, his cheeks perpetually rosy and squished up, his curls bobbing with captivating fluidity as he giggles in Even’s direction. Is he supposed to do anything but witness this? He’s being granted with some unbelievable privilege, he knows that, and it’s so easy to drift towards Isak’s brilliance and latch on, especially with how steadily they're edging towards friendship. And with friendship comes the justified protectiveness. 

So Even either sits in his room, distraught and worried but...respectfully granting Isak a sense of privacy, or he allows himself to get closer to Isak, where his blooming friendship urges his concerns to legitimacy. And, see, Even sees problems with both and neither. But, again, Even has decided to roll with fate. 

-

It’s late when the power goes out. Even’s laptop screen is suddenly blinding as his eyes are thrown into a new surrounding, adjusting but doing poorly, so he fumbles over the dark keys to lower the brightness. He waits for it to go back on, but after a few minutes of waiting, he’s accepted there’s probably a power line down, which...sucks, but he figures it’ll be back tomorrow. He’s about to go back to his movie when cursing from Isak’s room gives him pause. There’s quite a racket in the other room and still a fair amount of foul words while Even listens to Isak struggle, the noises signalling him making his way out of his apartment and suddenly Even hears a knock on his door. 

It’s easier to get around in the darkness but it’s made harder with the beating of his heart pushing against his neck, vibrating and buzzing, perverting the sound quality of his ears.

“Hey,” Isak says when the door is opened by Even, revealing the two to the others’ impaired sight. It's pure blindness in the hallway and it's almost spooky how little of Isak he can see, just an implied disturbance in the encompassing black drowning Isak. 

“Hi!” Even can hear a sniff.

“Umm, I was wondering if you had any, like, candles or extra flashlights, I don’t have any and I still have homework to do. It’s cool if you don’t…” Even imagines the look there on Isak’s face, that unsure and nervous expression and Even smiles when he remembers the stash of candles he’s stored in his cupboard, accumulated from gifts. 

“Yeah! I have loads of ‘em. Wanna help me carry them to yours?” They trip on the way there but Even finally recalls his phone in his pocket and wrestles it out as it snags on his seam, finally bathing the immediate area in a dead white light, faded but enough to locate Isak and the cupboard with candles. Even tells them he can borrow all of them if he needs and Isak takes him up on the offer.

-

Even lights the candles slowly, he’ll admit. It’s slow but neither seem to mind. He doesn’t want to mess up in the deterring, corrupted light and set fire to the room, seeing as papers line Isak’s desk and...honestly everywhere as he’s noticed from discretely taking in his room.

School (in a general sense) is the best for testing out the functionality of his mirror neurons; just the mere sight of the papers and books makes his blood run thick in his veins from the pity and second-hand stress, thinking about having to complete all of _that_ , about _Isak_ having to complete all of that. 

He looks away, and there’s The Wall. And it looks no different than his, really, that Even is all but convinced it’s the same damn wall, no insulation, maybe no division, and all he’d have to do to break it is place a hand against it, and with just the right amount of pressure it would collapse. He almost wants to try, but then his eyes catch the desk again, more closely. The one he was certain that Isak had hit before, like the other night right before he’d started crying. He walks towards it to place a candle there, lighting it while staring at the dents in it. They’re small but deep and there’s an abundance of them. Even avoids imagining all the times Isak has abused himself on the ugly thing, all the times he’s hurt himself in whatever emotion overtook him in the moment.

He avoids it to focus solely on watching the wick deny his attempts to light it, swearing, alarmed when he realizes the match has almost fully been eaten up by the flame and is grazing his fingers with deceptive heat. He drops it instinctively, and it tumbles (comically if it weren’t for the dread building in Even’s stomach) towards the fire-hazardous desk and he all but yells at the scene before him. In a flurry of frightened limbs, Even is putting out the match by suffocating it with the bottom of the candle he was trying to light. Satisfied it was put out, he looks up and is met with Isak, so close, a candle in his hands, and Even is on the brink of losing his grasp on his breathing at the sight of his tear stained cheeks in the flickering, dull orange light that ghosts over Isak’s skin with such a gentle glow, and he’s gorgeous if not just so sad. Fuck, he’s so beautiful, and Even’s breaths still have yet to return to their steadiness. 

Even’s maintained his staring until they both find “inconspicuous” interest elsewhere with uncontested speed. They’ve been playing this game since the first time at the café, this back and forth with no verbal acknowledgment of it, both seemingly content with their semblance of ignorance. It gives Even joy, though, a rush, some hope of Isak’s interest. 

“Did you put it out alright?” Isak laughs- or huffs, it’s barely a laugh, but his lips are turned upwards, so Even will take it. 

“Yeah. Jesus, I thought I was about to burn this place down.” Isak is laughing _now_ and Even is grinning like a _fool_. 

“No, wouldn’t want that…” he says, glaring at the stacks of papers that had been who knows how close to sudden demise. “Poof,” Isak whispers so faintly, Even’s certainty of its existence is slim, the whites of his eyes glinting with an unplaceable distance and exhaustion. 

“Oh fuck!” Even’s promptly distracted, eyebrows rising on his forehead and his mouth is forced open in shock. Isak regards him strangely. “My fridge!” And dawning realization turns Isak’s expression back to amusement. 

“I mean, you should probably just let it be, it’ll stay cold for a while,” he lights the final candle as he smirks at Even. 

“Oh. But I have leftover pizza...honestly I just remembered the pizza was in the fridge,” he steps towards the door slowly, turning back to Isak with a grin. “And I’m hungry. Want some?” He pauses. “I could also bring over a movie? I have tons downloaded and my laptop was charged when the power went out…and I know you said you had homework, but, I don’t know, maybe you’re in need of a break?” Isak hesitates, biting his bottom lip, squinting at his desk, the dancing shadows projected on his features, but he agrees with his shy smile. 

-

Sure, they’d spent all that time lighting the candles- Even nearly burning down Isak’s apartment- for scholarly intentions, but the ambiance it was donating was enough to make it worth it despite the original use being sidelined (which Even was surprised Isak had agreed to). They’re on Isak’s couch and it’s a little worse for wear but it’s so comfortable, Even’s knees are roughly eye level as he’s sunk so deeply into the cushions, having slipped lower and lower the longer he stayed. So now Isak was sitting higher up than Even, which made it harder to tell when he was staring, but Even felt it regardless. He’d smile when he sensed the enthralled, harmless gaze but didn’t return it so that it didn’t stop Isak.

For once, Even didn’t give a shit about the movie that played before the both of them, he was just satiated in here, where in day they’d started to have this safe and benevolent atmosphere around them, they now, in night, were graced with it again. It was the first time the two were “themselves” at night. Together, without Isak being upset and Even being concerned. Sure, it had obviously not started out spectacularly for Isak, but he seems to be at ease as well. They'd finished the pizza and now his head is rested against the back of the couch, hood hiding most of the waves of his blond hair, his arms loosely tucked inside the big pocket, legs crossed at the ankle where he’s set them atop the ottoman next to the laptop. 

It’s quiet. Yeah, the movie isn’t, but it’s still...quiet. And Even is- well Even is falling asleep. It's just a bubble around them, the world is so small right now, so sequestered, and with a hazy, sleepy mind, Even thinks about how he wants more of this with Isak. This world.


	4. A New Dawn

Isak’s apartment doesn’t have a window like Even’s. It’s bigger and looks sturdier, too, but it’s without the seat, which Even thinks ruins the use and charm of it. Isak didn’t have the blinds closed, either, and so light was currently diluting the darkness behind Even’s eyelids, and after fighting it for a while, trying to cling onto sleep despite the opposing nature of day seeping in, he relents and blinks his eyes open. 

Even sighs. His neck aches and his legs feel cramped, his shoulder feels on the verge of numbness and he’s disoriented. It’s a lethargic minute until the dam breaks and he’s remembering where he is, which prompts the flood of giddiness and ounces of worry. A look to his left reveals Isak, who’s- yep, Isak is asleep on his shoulder, hood still over his head, mouth agape, skin soft and radiant with the tender morning light kissing him. Isak lets out a little snore then, or something quite similar to it, but less harsh and with all the same implications of a deep sleep. Even is...dumbfounded. He hadn’t moved too much since waking but he stills anyway, muscles tingling with the acknowledgment of his proximity to Isak. It was so fucking endearing, exhilarating, but so _fucking endearing_. 

Even has the decency to consider that Isak probably wouldn’t want him watching him in his sleep, but, my _god_ , Even’s certain he’s never seen a sight so sweet and charming. It’s easily worth the soreness in his shoulder. But after an indeterminate period of time, of what Even could really only describe as pure bliss, Isak shifts, snuggling his cheek further into Even, sniffling, and wakes without much of a warning. He takes a moment to find Even’s gaze, clearly adrift, eyes clouded with sleep, but when he does, it’s a visible convulsion of Isak’s emotions, wasting no time in developing from ruffled and confused to alarmed and terrified.

“Oh. _Oh!_ Sorry!” Even watches Isak scramble away from him, sitting up and using his arm to push himself further towards the end of the couch. His blush is rich red and his hood has slipped off of his head, making him look wild with the blond hair sticking up, disorderly. 

“It’s fine,” Even smiles at him softly, thinking the opposite, he misses the warmth already. “ _I’m_ sorry... I didn’t mean to fall asleep last night,” but it’s a formality that he’s apologizing, because he couldn’t truly feel bad about this happy accident. Isak shakes his head, licking his lips with a swift appearance from his tongue. 

“It’s cool, it was an accident…” Isak threw him a small smile while he got up from the couch, and Even, realizing Isak wasn’t planning on doing anything more than keeping his feet firm, got up with him. 

“So...I’ll, uh, get out of your way,” Isak nodded, hands noticeably shaking. “See you soon?” 

“Yeah. For sure,” but Even wasn’t convinced as he observed the extent of Isak’s anxious expression and his avoidance of eye contact. Leaving the apartment, Even can sense his own fear as it pools in his stomach, fear that this is going to scare Isak off….

But it doesn’t.

-

It does, however, change _everything_ , and Even wonders how he'd gotten so lucky, how an accident, how inadvertently _falling asleep_ could've resulted in _this_. Because the days proceeding that night, Isak and Even expand the friendship they’d been so narrow with, been unsure of, and it seems like such a dream, such a gift of chance.

It's lacking subtlety, how they warrant their individual actions, spin them in ways that justify their shitty little excuses for spending time together. Even thinks it’s cute. Now they go to the other's apartments for no reason but to be around each other. Now they ask each other for favors, for things to borrow; salt, bread, ‘do you have any rosemary’ (which _no_ , Isak says, why would he have _rosemary_ , he’s a college student), a pencil sharpener, a lightbulb, honestly anything they can think of on a whim. Now they’re both sitting in Even’s window seat once Even had pointed out how Isak had so clearly been _robbed_ of the wonders of window seats. Now they’re going to Isak’s favorite café together, not as a product of coincidence anymore. 

\---

“Yeah, well I think it’s cool, at least,” Isak slumps back in his chair after thoroughly explaining the contents of his biology class, stopping only for breathing. Even hasn’t given him anything vocally stimulating or...anything at all since he started, and he thinks maybe Isak thinks he’s not interested, which couldn’t be more wrong. 

“No, it is cool,” Isak looks on, incredulous, clearly disbelieving. “It is!” Even reiterates, shifting his tone, higher pitched now, insistently sincere “I’m just-” he laughs, “I’m just absolutely _useless_ with science and…” Isak is giggling at him. “What?” 

“No, it's just funny, I don’t know,” he’s pulling his hand to his nose again, flicking it with his knuckle, pushing it to the side before it flopped back into place. Even thinks it’s his nervous tick.

“What? Funny that I’m inept? Is it funny that I’m never gonna be a scientist, my childhood _dream_ , by the way. Is that funny?” he feigns indignation, hand ridiculously placed atop his chest, wrist jutting out towards Isak, who sat giggling, chin pressing down towards his chest _adorably_.

“That was not your childhood dream,” he argues, still laughing. 

“Uhh, _excuse me_ , you didn’t know me when I was a kid, did you?” Even raises his eyebrows, suppressing his smile to keep up the bit, the joke that was providing him with such lightness, such happiness. Isak shook his head, little chuckles dying, grin remaining. His eyes turn serious and inquisitive.

“What _was_ your childhood dream, Even Bech Næsheim?”

“Well, Isak Valtersen, I wanted to be an astronaut.”

“Did you really?”

“Yeah, which is- normal, I guess, but- I don’t know, space used to get me so excited and being an astronaut was what I wanted to do for so long,” his smile is soft when he looks back at Isak, who’s hand is molded to his chin and cheek, gaze loud with affection. “But things change, right?”

“Right,” Isak states, blinking at Even, lashes long as they tease the skin below his eyes. 

“What about you, huh, Mr. Biology Nerd? Astronaut or Prime Minister? Vet? Teacher?” Isak laughs, sitting up and removing his elbow from the table. 

“Uhh, football player.”

“Ah. Well Valtersen would look amazing on the back of a jersey.” Isak blushes as he smiles.

“You think?” and there’s this strange hint of insecurity in his voice that Even doesn’t understand, but he’s not inclined to let it fester. 

“Absolutely. I bet you’d be a great football player, Isak. You’d be good at anything,” and Isak’s grin is the biggest Even’s ever seen it. 

 

\---

It’s an Isak Apartment night. Last time it had been at Even’s, and while they don’t always alternate fairly, here they were regardless. At Isak’s they’d play video games since Even doesn’t own any consoles, which is what they’d been at for hours now in a stupidly stubborn display of determination and passion. They only take a minor break when Isak stands and stretches to go to the bathroom. And Even, feeling the uncomfortable shift in his stomach, hearing it growl, gets up, too. And, _oh_ , there’s virtually nothing in the fridge... like _nothing_. There’s juice, beer, cheese, but nothing substantial. Even pauses, brows furrowing without his consent. The sight doesn’t sit right with him, and Even’s gears are now turning. He considers this one, letting his mind ponder it carefully before he hears the sink in the bathroom and he rushes a tad just to make it back before Isak sees him in the kitchen. He smiles at Isak when he sits back next to Even, closer than he’d been before, to Even’s delight. He takes in a deep breath.

“So...I feel like cold pizza just didn’t cut it,” Isak turns his head and looks at Even strangely, face contorting in confusion. Even waits for the question.

“What?” There it is. 

“I just think that leftover pizza isn’t a great neighborly offering,” Isak’s face remains unchanged, if not collapsing further in perplexity. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love cold pizza, but c’mon,” it’s clear that Isak wants him to get to the point, he’s now dropped his shoulders in exasperation, jaw dropping to part his lips. Even smiles. “What do you think about dinner?”

“Yeah,” Isak smirks after a while, “I think it’s great. Best meal by far.” Even grins, canines brushing his lower lip. 

“What do you think about me inviting you over for dinner?” and Isak’s reserved smugness vanishes, and he’s left with a surprised expression, eyes wide and eyebrows twitching upwards. 

“Oh, uhm…”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the best free chef you’ll ever have,” Isak’s cheeks are pink, Even is patient. “And you can pick the day, of course.”

“Uhh, yeah. Yeah! That’d be- that’d be awesome. Sure.” Even assesses Isak and it seems like he’s moments from doing something entirely emotional, like crying...Even thinks he’s had enough of that.

“You can text me with the date, just give me a heads up like a day before,” Isak nods quickly. 

“Yeah. I’ll do that,” he smiles again before it disappears just as fast. “Oh, Even, I don’t have your number,” and Even smiles, having known that but yearning for his desperation to not weasel the number from Isak himself. 

“Oh, haha, of course. Here,” he reaches out for Isak’s phone who’s distracted by the silent indication and stares at his hand blankly before realizing. Isak’s gaze trails Even’s every move as he types in his number and name. “There,” and they smile at each other. 

“Cool. I’ll, uhh, text you,” he blushes. Even tries not to do the same. 

“I hope so,” and with a wink, they go back to the game. 

\---

Cooking isn’t nerve-wracking. It’s calming, distracting from any rogue and unwelcomed thoughts tormenting his mind, but Even can’t stop himself from shaking as he flips through the cookbook, can’t stop himself from dropping the ingredients on the way to the counter, can’t stop himself from sweating even before he turns the oven on. Yeah, he’s decently nervous for this...dinner. Because it’s not a date, _obviously_ , no, it’s just dinner. 

He _miraculously_ finishes before Isak knocks at the door, and it was such perfect timing that he glanced suspiciously at The Wall, like it was capable of letting through smells now, that Isak was alerted with the help of its betrayal. He wouldn’t doubt what it could do at this point. 

Forehead a little damp and gross and his apron still on, Even uses the fabric to wipe it away before opening the door for Isak. They grin at each other before Even steps to the side, arm out towards the kitchen to welcome the boy that’s now regarding the dinner table like it’s harboring blocks of gold. 

“Hungry?” Even asks while he closes the door, taking off his apron now, setting it on its hooked home before turning to Isak again. He’s migrated closer to the table but it's as though that image of something that’s most definitely _not_ what Even’s made is still in his mind’s eye. Even sits, hoping Isak will follow. He does. 

“This is amazing, Even, what the fuck?” Even beams. 

“I hope it’s good,” Even knows it’s at least edible, he wouldn’t have made Isak something bad, and he is a good cook, but the idea that Isak was going to be eating it had drained his confidence and left him worried. He doesn’t hope it’s good, he _needs_ it to be good. 

He watches Isak take the first bite after Even raised his beer to him, giving him the go-ahead. He watches still as Isak blinks and opens with wide eyes. 

“This is so fucking good, Even,” he all but yells. “Jesus, _what is this_?” Even smiles bashfully.

“It’s nothing much, but thank you, Isak, I’m really glad you like it.” Green and blue irises search the other, and it’s like the world is suddenly cyan, hints of both undertones breaching the surface but still, that blinding color is prolonging time in its dense presence, stealing the words from the air.

“Thanks for inviting me, by the way,” Isak softly breaks the silence. “This is like...gourmet,” he says louder, looser.

“You’re welcome to dinner anytime, Isak. Anytime you want.”  
-

“Okay, what?! These are so good, Even.” They migrated to Even’s bedroom when he mentioned his guitar, which Isak’s eagerness for Even to play it for him was much too compelling to turn down. But upon entering the room, Isak spotted the walls where Even’s sketches and paintings are virtually covering the wallpaper.

“Seriously?” and Isak nods, absorbing the sight with a closed-lip smile, taking his time with each one. “Thank you,” Even says, hushed, unable to avert his gaze as he watched Isak stare at his drawings. “I can draw something for you, if you wanted?” Isak whips his head around, with shock evident on his features. 

"You'd do that for me?" 

"Anything for you."

 

\---

“Isak,” he’s...startled, to say the least. But honestly, he thinks he was maybe seconds from going over to Isak’s before he’d shown up, because the avoidance of nights like these were harder to bear now that they were friends, now that they knew each other so much better. But Isak standing in front of him now, looking shaken up, looking small and fragile but still displaying courage that sparkled amongst the tears in his eyes was not what he’d expected to have happened. 

“I- uhh- can I come in?” Even nods, beckoning him inside, following Isak’s every word and movement with his full attention dedicated to the task. Isak doesn’t seem to buy his sincerity in spite of Even’s caring authenticity and hasn’t made a move to come inside, either. “Sorry- I’m probably bothering you, I can go, I-” he edges back to exit but Even gently curls his fingers around Isak’s wrist, shaking his head. 

“No, Isak, come in, please,” his smile is ever so slight. “Do you want to talk or would you rather me put on a movie or listen to music...I could make food? Hot chocolate?” He leads Isak to his couch, sitting down with him but leaning forward, ready to do anything Isak needed. He looks distant, or just not fully there, like he’s not in his element. Which, sure, he’s probably not, they’ve never dealt with this, never even mentioned these nights. Why would they? Isak doesn’t know Even knows. And maybe he hasn’t heard a word Even’s said right now, but he looks at him after a moment, just a lengthy glance.

“Yeah, it’s just...I-” his chest rises as his lungs fill, starting over. “I- it’s- sorry, I just- I just didn’t want to be alone.” And it’s not like Even feels his heart at all times, in fact it perpetually beats silently, but right now, he feels it pound underneath his sternum, and feels it so much more when it breaks at Isak’s words. His hand reaches to Isak’s shoulder.

“No, Isak, you don’t have to apologize, please don’t apologize. I’m here for you. Anything you need.” Isak stares at him through distorted lenses, the water welling beneath his lower eyelids, a blink and they’d spill over. They do. Even’s hand lifts from Isak’s shoulder to his cheeks, where he wipes away the wet under Isak’s eyes with featherlight fingertips.

“Just-can I-” he sighs in frustration, broken frustration, and Even knows the kind. Where words aren’t cooperating with your mind, and they wriggle out of your grasp deviously, and it feels crippling and dark. He sets his hand on Isak’s shoulder again, rubbing it slowly, trying to convey his patience, his willingness to wait for him. “Even, can I sleep here?” 

“Yes, of course, Isak. Absolutely. Here, I can sleep out here and you can take my bed, I have extra sheets if you want me to change them out,” Isak looks frozen as he watches Even. 

“No, god, I don’t want you to do that, I can sleep out here,” he lets out slowly, still that fixed, rooted look upon his face. 

“I insist, Isak, it’s not a problem at all,” because it isn’t. It really isn’t. Even wants Isak to be comfortable, to not see that expression on his face anymore. He doesn’t want Isak to hurt like this anymore.

“No- I-you could- we could-” Isak sighs again. “We could share your bed?” Isak’s cheeks flush further. “I- if you- if you’re okay with that,” and Even is nodding, lightly squeezing Isak’s shoulder. 

“Isak, anything you need. I’m okay with that, okay? Wanna go in there now? Do you need to get stuff from your apartment, or I could get it? Pajamas maybe?” Isak shakes his head, fresh tears painting his skin with a transparent sheen. “Do you want to go in my room now?” He asks again. This time Isak nods, so he leads the two of them into his room, into his bed.

“If you change your mind,” Even says when they’ve both laid down, neither touching, “you can just let me know and I’ll go sleep on the couch, I promise I won’t mind.” But Isak is shaking his head vigorously until he slows, staring at Even with undefined hesitation in his stare. And then he’s got his arms around Even’s waist, head against his chest. Even was surprised, but it didn’t take him long to put his own arms around Isak, his own head dipping to rest against Isak’s, his hair tickling his chin and neck. 

Sometimes you don’t have to say a word, sometimes words are just bland and trip and falter and it doesn’t matter how much an attempt is made to use them, they just...aren’t enough. Right now, they don’t need words. Just each other. Like this. And they fall asleep, in each other’s arms; and it’s not day yet, the sun hasn’t even begun to breach the horizon, the sky is dark and dormant, but a dawn has arrived, just in Even’s bed instead, just between the two of them as they wander in dreams.


	5. A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying something new by writing through Isak's perspective. Tell me what you think :)

He’s supposed to feel embarrassed, it’s how this works. It’s why he never shares anything with anybody, simply to rid himself of that feeling, that rush of blood to his heart and his mind closing off with fear and shame. But he doesn’t feel that at all. He instead feels warm, remembering he hadn’t changed out of his clothes last night, so his jeans stuck to his skin, his sweatshirt radiated heat while it hugged his body, and the blanket on top of him kept the temperature just so perfectly bearable. 

He wakes up first this time. Even had taken that away from him when they had last spent the night together, though that had been an accident. This hadn’t been such a pleasant experience, either. He moves his lips side to side, testing the rigidness of his skin, which is quite stiff, the dryness of it the routine consequence of crying until the natural moisture was stolen by the salt, replaced with the gross texture of stale tears. He rubbed at it in vain and let out a long breath that jostled his lips with minuscule vibrations. 

He glanced at Even who was facing him, eyelids smooth, wrinkles of that unjustified worry that sometimes lined his rounded features were absent. His hair down where product kept it perfect and styled on any other occasion. He sighed and a trace of contentment made it past the obstacle of his stubborn jaw, feeling it become almost tangible as he watched Even sleep so peacefully. 

Isak was stupid, he knew that. He was getting a big, fat fucking crush on Even and it was humiliating, ridiculous, because he was his neighbor, a neighbor that never asked to take on all the trouble that Isak caused, all the contagious sorrow, all the problems. No one, Isak told himself, should have to deal with all _of him_. But it didn’t matter what the intelligent, emotionally detached, and mature part of his mind advised him, because the dumb part, the romantic, the hopeless, the yearning part was insistent on turning him into a blushing, bumbling, or awkward mess whenever Even was around, and _especially_ when Even gave him that fucking _grin_. Where his teeth show and shine and his eyes squint and nothing has ever exuded such joy and beauty. Isak had no chance, really. Zero. 

He knew it when he first saw him, honestly, but his internal mess of insecurities and external mess of...his life buried him in reclusive dirt whenever Even interacted with him. Even was a damn insistent person though, but not in an meddlesome or entitled way, rather in the way he’s always wanted someone to be with him. Pure patience and genuine interest and undeniable kindness. He loses his breath thinking about Even, worrying about driving him away, scaring him. If he found out about all the crying, all the extraneous bullshit that drags him down despite how minor the inconveniences may seem. But fails to stop himself from imagining more; about Even staying, about Even and him taking the next step, about sweet kisses, soothing hugs, cuddling, about ‘how was your day, babe?’s, and waiting for the other to come home with thinly veiled anticipation, about sexual intimacy (which he felt guilty fantasizing about), about having Even- _Even_ as his boyfriend.

He’s tossed away from the idea when Even wakes with a few twitches in his fingers and face, eyes blinking with drowsy, heavy lids. Isak looks away when Even’s gaze finds Isak’s and smiles at him. 

“Good morning,” Even whispers, voice husky and tired. Isak could just hear the question hanging on the tip of Even’s tongue, but appreciated that it never came to fruition. He didn’t need to hear it to consider his answer, to admit it, to tell Even. No, he wasn’t okay, but yes, he felt better. 

“Good morning,” Isak relieved both of their invisible considerations in their respective minds, he hated the tension in the room. “I’m probably gonna le-”

“Do you want breakfast?” Even interrupts. Isak gapes at him before he elaborates. “I could make eggs and toast. I have coffee, too,” he smiles wide when Isak nods hesitantly. “Sweet. Feel free to stay in bed or take a shower or whatever you want. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Okay... Thanks, Even,” he gets out before Even exits the room. He pauses at the door, his torso turning to Isak, his grin in full force. 

“Anytime.” Anytime. _Anytime_. 

 

Isak knew he should shower, but figured he’d have time during an inevitably sleepless night tonight. He should also change, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Even’s apartment to do so. He stuck his head out of the door and spotted Even in the kitchen while he was getting things together, currently taking eggs out of the carton. 

“Hey, Even?” He looks over at him, eyebrows raised, smiling. “Could I borrow some sweatpants or something? I can give them back tonight or sooner.” 

“Yeah, of course! They’re in the second drawer,” his smile only disappears because his head turns back to the counter, and Isak is enamored. That remarkable, easy _kindness_. 

He goes back into Even’s room, grabbing the pair of grey sweatpants that sat on top of the folded clothes in the drawer. While he’s changing, he begins to smell the eggs cooking and the bread toasting while that bitter, rich aroma of coffee overpowers the two. He smiles, in disbelief that he’s about to have homemade breakfast with Even, that Even is literally _making_ him _breakfast_ in _Even’s_ apartment where he had been welcome to spend the _night_. This was a dream. It had to be. 

He walked to the kitchen, feet treading forward as though they were expecting the floor to disintegrate, to steal him from this world with Even and to cruelly force him to one without him. But by the time he was sitting at the table, he was still grounded quite solidly where he was. He pinched himself under the table when Even brought the food and coffee to the table. _Still here_ , he thought. _Still probably a dream_.

“Presentation probably could’ve been better but I was hungry,” Even laughed at himself, looking at the messy plate and then to Isak who was rather frozen, still trying to process everything. Even cleared his throat. “I mean- yeah it’s good though!” He looks a little wobbly, a little insecure and Isak absolutely hates it on his face. He propels through his immobility, smiling. 

“Seriously, Even, you’re the best, I can’t believe you made me breakfast,” and grabs his fork to take a bite, and to hell with what Even says, joke or not, the presentation meant shit given how fucking _good_ these eggs are. The toast is even perfected. And the coffee. The _coffee_. He’s internally moaning instead of vocally because he’s embarrassed himself enough in front of Even. “Even, seriously, you even make eggs seem gourmet. You’re- this is perfect."

“I think that you're- this is perfect, too,” and he feigns a semblance of seriousness, though Isak knows he's teasing, but breaks it quickly with a wink and smirk before going back to eating. Isak’s cheeks are hot and he shifts in his seat, but he’s hiding his own smile as he ducks his head to drink some of his coffee. 

It’s quiet while they finish but it's far from unpleasant. It’s comfortable, the silence doesn’t demand from them a thing, no obligations, no urgency or expectations. It’s allowing Isak to be in his own thoughts while having a reassuring presence by his side. He _wants_ this in his life more than he’s getting it, and he’s almost selfish enough to ask for it, right here, right now. But he keeps his mouth shut. He thinks it might stay that way for awhile, at least when these thoughts surface. It’s safer, lets Isak keep _this_ for as long as possible, even if it’s sparse. _It’s better than losing Even. Much better_. It’s all he has to say to himself.

“What’re you doing today?” Even asks after setting down his empty cup. _Saturday_ , he reminds himself, and _thank god_ he has nothing. 

“Nothing, actually. I don’t usually have to work on the weekends and I don’t have too much homework for once,” he grins at his own luck. Work fucking sucked. 

Getting a job was an inevitability for Isak. To afford college, rent, all his other necessities, and accounting for his father’s inconsistencies in supporting him financially, there were no other alternatives. The issue wasn’t finding one, though- that had been quickly solved- the issue was having enough time to maintain it. He only worked part time, but it was still exhausting. He was often scheduled to work after _hours_ of classes and then getting back late to his apartment for _hours_ more spent for homework. He was lying to himself, that this was okay, that this was a system he could adjust to, but the farther into the semester he went, the farther into his job, his homework, his days of stress trying to save enough money for rent, the days of going without eating much at all in order to save money...it was getting to him. Denying the severity was getting to him. Crying every damn night was getting to him. 

“Do you like work?” He asked. Just casually, probably not expecting the question to be received poorly by Isak, and Isak wasn't expecting to burden him with any of his problems after chastising himself and warning himself of this very thing happening. But he was ready to answer truthfully. Why Even was so easy to talk to despite all of his built-up walls was too nerve-wracking to dwell on. He sighed, shoulders drooping. Even looked at him curiously and almost like was about to apologize. For what, Isak didn’t know, never knew with Even. 

“It’s shit, honestly.” Even raised his eyebrows, a familiar gesture but this was less playful, more inquisitive.

“Oh yeah?” he was looking at him steadily, engrossed in Isak. 

“Yeah. I file papers and like- that’s not hard or anything, like it’s pretty fucking easy, but it’s so stressful,” he takes a breath and glances briefly at Even, searching for any indication of indifference or boredom, but that ever-present intense stare still gazed back at him. So he continued despite his pesky instincts. “Like, I’m taking too many classes, so I get back from hours of school just to go to hours of work and then get home to do hours of homework, and it’s like I have no time for anything else, and it doesn’t even pay that well.” When his eyes meet Even’s again, there’s this odd little expression there, and Isak, still frowning, tries to place it. Realization. It's realization. Isak frown deepens before Even speaks.

“I wish I could help, Isak. Where is it that you work?” 

“Oslo Office Smarts. It’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.” Even laughs and it coaxes a giggle out of Isak. 

“That's pretty bad. But, uhh, how are your bosses?” Isak is confused but responds anyway.

“Uhh, fine. Or- honestly they don’t really care what I do. Half the time I don’t even think they know I’m there. But that’s fine. I like that. Probably one of the only things I like.” Even nods like he’s distracted, eyes to the side and down, no longer on Isak. He’s concerned that maybe he’s complained too long, but Even snaps out of it and smiles again. 

“Well, since you’re free...movie day?” he suggests. Isak hardly lets a second pass before he’s agreeing.

-  
\--  
-

 

Isak’s had a headache since he woke up, which was _late_ , by the way, so he didn’t have time for water or advil. God, he never has any fucking _time_. He then had trouble focusing on his classes, the lectures dulling at the edges, the lessons melding together, and his notes were messier than usual and much less detailed. When he got home- the fifteen minutes before going out again for work- he’d accidentally bumped into his desk and papers had scattered in a frenzied dash for freedom from their confined, poorly organized hell. He held his aching head in his shaking hands and sighed, trying to hold off on crying until he got back home again after work. He went to the kitchen to grab something to eat, knowing his shift ran later tonight, too late for stores to be open for him to buy food afterwards, but _of fucking course_ there was nothing in the fridge. Nothing in the pantry. Nothing in the drawers- he doesn’t know, he thought he’d at least _check_. And standing in the middle of his kitchen, Isak feels so lost and empty, it’s like his emotions are numbed down to oblivion and yet he’s somehow still feeling all of them congregate to torment him. 

“Fuck!” he exclaims, maybe a bit too loud. He’s always too fucking loud. 

He looks at the time, and of _course_ he’s late, why wouldn’t he be? Isak grabs his wallet and keys and sprints out the door, running right into Even. 

“Woah! Are you okay?” he doesn’t have time to distract himself with Even.

“Yeah, yeah! Sorry I’m running late, but I’ll see you later?” He’s not fully sure Even heard most of that, because once he collected himself, he was off. 

Once he got to work, he immediately realized he’d accidentally filed a mixed pile of papers during his last shift, which meant he’d have to _reorganize_ them and _then_ file them again, along with today’s work. He resigned himself to it, insufficiently repressing all his panic and despondent frustrations for later. He noticed a dark, wrinkled spot on one of the papers in his hands and reached up to his upper cheeks, where he found tears falling. He squeezed his eyes shut, furiously wiping them away while he got back to work. 

It was about an hour and a half into his shift when his stomach growled, and it was hard to miss. With only the shuffling of papers and his sniffles to supply noise in the office, it was easily heard. He sighed, trying to drown it out. No luck. 

“Sounds like you’re hungry,” and _fuck_ , he thinks he’s just had his heart stop there for a solid thirty seconds, even after having whipped around to see Even with a brown bag in his hand, raised near his head. 

“ _Even_? What the fuck are you doing here? You scared the _shit_ out of me.” Even smiled abashedly, lowering the bag. 

“I was out getting dinner and I walked by the famed ‘Oslo Office Smarts’ and thought maybe you’d want to have some food. Your boss let me in.” The same sheepish little smile was on his lips. Isak was sick of this ruthless, sadistic dream, because there was no _way_ in _hell_ that 1) Even was real and 2) he was here at _work_ with _food_ right after his stomach had sounded off at him in annoyance and anger. Just _no fucking way_ \- which he accidentally says out loud, causing Even to turn into his jubilant self. 

“Do you?” Isak has lost all of his human capabilities. He’s stunned, practically in tears again. _When isn’t he crying_? 

“Yeah! _Yes_ , Even you have literally _no idea_ how much I love you right now,” and he’s so hungry and exhausted and shocked that he hardly notices what he’s said, or rather he couldn’t care any less right now. Even needs to know how much he’s just saved him. “Seriously, you don’t know how much this means to me.” Even is absolutely about to make a joke, but Isak isn’t in the mood to fuck around with fake, suppressed feelings just to play along, isn’t in the mood to make Even think he’s not dead serious. “No. Even, I mean it. This is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.” Even is dead serious now, too. His gaze intense. 

“Anytime, Isak. Anything for you.” There it is. Again. _Anytime_. _Anything for you_. And Even says it like he knows what it does for Isak, like he knows exactly how much it affects him. Like he's heard Isak. He's listened. 

-  
\--  
-

It’s the same night, because despite Even’s incredible act of generosity and consideration, Isak is still back in his empty apartment that just hurls horrible words at him, makes him feel like he’s in that world without Even, in the dark and cold. What is it about his apartment that shuts out all reason, all of his moments of peace, all his smiles and giggles? It’s purgatory- or just the manifestation of his mind. But he’s sick of it. And despite his warnings, he heads to Even’s.

It takes two knocks for Even to open the door, he looks tired, but Isak is _too_. He’s invited in and they both head to Even’s bed like they're both on the same wavelength. 

“I’m-” even this strong quiet surrounding them isn’t enough to conceal the discomfort and anxiety of Isak attempting to articulate his feelings, and it’s pathetic, pathetic and embarrassing, even without the words that are pushing against his tongue and teeth being spoken out loud. Even reaches behind Isak to rub his back, his palm and fingertips brushing across the soft, grey fabric of Isak’s sweatshirt. It feels so nice, just gentle enough, just encouraging enough that Isak opens his mouth, lets it all spill and stain his shirt for Even to see. “I’m lonely and stressed and- I’m unhappy, Even. I'm so unhappy and I don't know how to fix it” and he hates himself for the cracking of his voice, it never does that but only _now_ to betray him. He’s quick to continue when Even’s said nothing and the air is getting humid, or perhaps just his air. “I-I know that sounds pathetic and I know it's not your problem, but I just- I can’t help it and it sucks. I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Isak,” he doesn’t want to look because if he does he’ll find the disgust in Even’s eyes where the blue had been always so kind before. He knows that Even will- “I don’t want you to feel alone. Or be alone. Because you’re not, you’re really not.” and, oh wow was Isak not expecting that. Not even in the depths of his stupidly trusting imagination. His mouth formed for words that deserted far before his voice could claim them. Even kept going when Isak failed to say anything. “I know I was just your neighbor- or, I still am but- Isak, I don’t want to just be your neighbor. Or just your friend. I _want_ to be those things, but-” he sighed, and it was the most unsure Isak had ever seen Even. Isak gulped and bit the inside of his cheek while Even struggled. “I like you, Isak. I _like_ you. A lot.” Isak’s eyes were painfully wide, air breathing into them and depriving him of any moisture. He blinked madly to get it back. 

“What?” Even looked at him like he’d been kicked, height somehow falling a foot. Isak shook his head at the misconception. “I- do you- mean that?” 

“Yes!” Even’s posture returning. “Yes I absolutely do! And- it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want to make things awkward. A-and I know that doesn't solve all of your problems- or any, I don't know. I just need you to know that you’re never gonna be alone, Isak. I want to be there for you. However you want me to be.” Isak pinches himself once more, like he had at breakfast on Saturday, like he had mentally ever since meeting Even. When he closed his eyes and opened them to Even, he gave up the notion that this wasn't reality. This was as real as it got. 

So he leaned forward and placed his lips on Even's. _This was as real as it got_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's left a comment and/or a kudos so far (and also thank you to everyone for reading). It is immensely appreciated! <3


	6. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak struggles with himself, prudence and emotion at war with each other.

If Isak believes in anything, he believes in science, in logic backed by it. 

He lives by it. 

But he knows, though on a lesser level of reasoning, a more human inclination, that people are composed of feelings, of this scattered, abundant conglomeration of them. Emotions being an arguable constant, and every moment, every minute has a feeling attached, everything a connotation shared with varying memories. Each one, any one, happiness, or anger, or sadness all have a retractable memory, a moment with a common emotion bonded to it....but not kissing. Not _this_ kiss. This kiss feels like nothing he’s ever felt before, no memory shares this. Nothing.

He’s breathless, hands on Even’s waist tentatively and Even’s have found the sides of Isak’s face. It wasn’t too heated, it was just a sweet pressing of lips, really, but it was almost too much, too overwhelming, even though Isak had initiated it and it had been an itching need- still is. They break apart and Even’s blush is bright and pretty, mouth open and eyelids low, but Isak’s stomach is churning. It was all too much.

Isak hasn’t responded to Even, either. Hearing him say those things to him, all those things that were so entrenched inside his arsenal of reveries, he couldn’t trust himself in having actually heard it come from Even’s mouth. He hasn’t responded because despite all his pining, all his yearning, all his hopes, his imaginations, there’s no way this would happen. Not to Isak. Never to Isak. 

It's not that Isak doesn’t feel safe with Even- because he does actually, which is surprising even as he relinquishes his denial to his truthful feelings- it’s instead that he feels unsafe with _himself_. He doesn’t need to tell Even about _everything_ , because it’s the thought of him doing it, of saying something a little more real and a little more honest than what he’s already said that’s terrifying. Sure, he wants someone to know _all of it_ \- clearly does since he’s taken steps to open up to Even- but those were moments of desperation and emotions so intense, where his better senses were sidelined by panic. Isak doesn’t trust himself to stop once he starts (he’s already said too much), nor does he trust himself to not force Even away from him, as if him learning more about Isak would do the trick, would ruin this dream, would wake him up where he’d become so comfortable in this world. 

They head to the window seat, because it’s one of those nights that clings onto consciousness, begging for sleep to be warded off until daybreak, and neither have the strength to continue standing and waiting for the other to speak. And Isak’s not going to speak, not right now. He’s staring at Even instead, instead of opening his mouth and turning this into dust, into ash, debris. He’s looking at the blues of his eyes from the side, the clear globe reflecting the streetlights that are enveloping their bodies. He pulls his gaze to Even’s hair, and it’s not styled like it usually is, not as perfect or high up, just softly in between the usual look and his natural hair. Now Isak’s looking at his skin, which is just as extraordinarily imperfect as everything else is, but it has this distinct call to him, like home, like if he could just touch it, bury his nose into his neck, nothing could hurt him, nothing could bother him. His fingers twitch, resisting every urge to reach out. He places them under his thighs and then drops his gaze when Even turns to him. 

“Wanna go stargaze on the roof?” Isak’s face scrunches tight, his eyelashes obstructing his view, skewing the focus. 

“We don’t have access to the roof, Even.”

“I know! I’ve just...found a way.” He’s offering Isak a small smile that’s melting the creases in Isak’s face, that’s melting him altogether. Even extends his hand to Isak and they intertwine their fingers, standing together, Even grabbing some blankets and taking the lead once they leave the apartment. Isak’s still exhausted, but it’s behind his eyes, his headache subdued but still painful, but not enough to slow him down.

They’re walking through the halls without a word, Isak glancing at Even more than the path they were taking. They use the stairs to get to the top floor, and Even heads into an unlocked, unmarked door. Isak squints, intrigued. 

“They never lock it,” Even comments, his voice hushed, facing Isak with a grin, one that Isak matches. They head through a small staircase that leads to another door, through that is the rooftop. Even huffs out a proud breath. Isak stifles a giggle. 

“How’d you find this?” 

“I got bored and went looking for trouble,” he winks at Isak while they head to the middle of the roof, Even laying out the blankets and they both stretch out on them, faces turned up to the midnight sky.

It’s a cold night, but neither had remembered to bring a jacket, Isak in a long sleeve shirt, Even in a sweatshirt. Even takes the blanket underneath him and places it over the two of them. It doesn't insulate well but Isak feels warm with their arms and thighs touching. 

It’s beautiful, though, despite the cold. The horizon is a bewitching, navy blue, such a perfect gradient that darkens as it curves upwards. The sky’s so clear and though the light pollution hides some stars, those that _are_ twinkling or steadily shining are vivid, the heavens freckled with the white and blue pinpricks. Isak feels for a rare, profound moment like he’s found something right in the mess of wrong he’s lived in for years. But he feels like he’s in this spot that if he kicks at it a bit, tinkering with what’s solid, with what's good, the whole puzzle will collapse into broken pieces. But something less than his normal desperation is tugging at him, and he doesn’t understand the reasoning. He wants Even to know he’s a mess but also knows he can’t, and the two conflicting opposites clash and exist as one inside his head. It makes no sense, really. It really doesn’t. His head is pounding again and he sighs.

No, he needs to tell him, because the mess is a part of Isak that Even needs to know about if they want to go further.

“Even,” Isak whispers as they stare, fixated on the brilliance of the universe. It’s a wonderful place to end the world. His world, this dream. 

“Yes, Isak?” He thinks maybe Even senses he’s about to say something important, because he shifts under the blanket to turn his body towards Isak, and his expression is serious, his eyes have this glint. Protectiveness? He sighs again and decides then to be straightforward. 

“I think I’m messed up.” Even doesn’t fade away, though. Not yet. 

“What do you mean?” he asks in return, still fully there, attentive and loving. 

“Like _messed_ up. I...have some problems,” Even nods at Isak, just listening, and Isak needs that. “I...okay, I cry every night, and like, I don’t even think it’s healthy at this point. It’s like instead of facing any of my problems I just cry about them. It’s honestly kinda pitiful, isn’t it? I can't even go a day without breaking down and I- _I_ know how hard it is to deal with me, Even, and I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me and how much I _like you too_ , but I can’t ask you to stick around.” He’s forcing himself to meet Even’s stare because he needs him to understand that he’s being genuine in ways he’s never been, that he’s never been more serious. But Even’s face just screams at him with despair and deep-set bewilderment. 

And _love_ , there's somehow still love in those eyes.

“Isak?” Isak’s mouth grows dry with the tone of his voice, it’s as vulnerable as Isak feels, as they both are treading through unknown waters. Isak just stares back. “We can take this slow, as slow as you want, or even drop it altogether, but I’m not going anywhere just because you’re worried about how I’d ‘deal’ with you,” Isak’s heart might drop a little but Even doesn’t need to know that. “It’s okay not to _immediately_ know how to get through things, Isak, but it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve good things. Or that you don’t get to want what you want.” Isak gulps and watches Even. He lays back down slowly, nodding after a minute of silence. 

“Slow,” Isak says softly, “slow sounds good.” He can practically hear Even’s smile while he joins Isak again under the blanket. 

“Slow,” Even repeats.

Isak takes Even’s hand in his and they spend hours there, pointing out constellations and shooting stars, following the path of a satellite, and exchanging words that floated around them in the brisk twilight. It wasn’t lost on Isak how nothing had crumbled, nothing had been lost. Even and Isak on a rooftop in the middle of night, stable, secure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter update, sorry. Next one will be longer! <3


	7. Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak and Even take it slow.

Slow wasn’t an intimidating, looming, ominous reality or idea, it wasn’t as though it brought anything to a screeching halt or implied the ceasing of all communication. In fact, Even wasn’t scared of slow at all, wasn’t resentful of it, wasn’t worried about it. Because _slow_ wasn’t slow with Isak, he learned. It was _leisurely_. The two of them were strolling through their friendship-relationship, waltzing instead of leaping, and it was perfect. 

Isak was still so busy, and days were precious, evenings blessings. They were making do, though, and that meant as many FIFA and movie nights as they could manage. It meant dinner or breakfast or lunch together at home or school or work. It meant sharing their beds, couches, floors, Even’s window seat. It meant stealing each others’ clothes. Studying with Isak. Lazy Sundays. Kissing. Silently or vocally cherishing every single moment. It’s such a sweet and tender coexistence, and Even is often pondering _how_ this happened, it seems such an incredible stroke of luck, something that doesn’t happen to Even. He lets it happen though, works with it, runs with it, isn’t going to let this slip through his fingers.

-

Isak comes over after his last class, something he does when he doesn’t have an expansive amount of work to immediately attend to. It wasn’t too late, the sun was still high enough in the sky to evade dusk, but Isak was exhausted, Even could tell from the sight of him when he opened his door, skin dark around his eyes, his shoulders drooped, leaning against the door frame as though if he weren’t he’d be lying on the floor. 

“Hey,” Even whispers, because for some reason, the thought of raising his voice seems almost wrong. He smiles at Isak while he steps inside with a sluggish pace. It was cute, sure, but Even guided Isak to the couch with his hand softly on his lower back so Isak wouldn’t actually collapse or anything of a similarly alarming possibility.

“Fuck,” Isak mumbles as he slumps on Even’s couch, laughing with a lopsided smile. “Rough day.” Even puts an arm around his shoulder and squeezes his bicep, pulling him closer. Isak’s head falls to Even’s shoulder and the weight is only slightly uncomfortable on his clavicle, but he’s not complaining. He takes his hand from Isak’s shoulder and brings it to his hair, soft and golden curls tickling the spaces in between his fingers as he runs them through again and again.

“That bad?” 

“Yeah, just- not good. Can we watch a movie or something? Just whatever’s on,” he adds when Even makes to get up and grab one of his DVDs, Isak leaning further into Even and holding onto his arm tightly, not letting him move from his spot. Even smiles and laughs, kissing the top of Isak’s head before reaching for the remote. He finds a TV movie, nothing he’s ever heard of and not something decent, but they’ve only been watching it for a few minutes before he hears a little snore from Isak, so barely-there that Even has to peer down at Isak to check. Yep. He’s sleeping, mouth slack, breaths loud and even, eyelids smooth, Even reaches to touch his hair again, taking a stray curl against his forehead and pushing it gently away to be reunited with the waves that frame his face. 

He turns down the TV until the voices coming from it sound like choral wisps of wind and plays with Isak’s hair more, glancing at him while the now low-lying sun colors Isak’s skin with orange and pink, until the sun sets altogether and the movie ends and some random show comes on, until Isak wakes up groggy and mellow but affectionate, kissing Even before he reluctantly heads back to his apartment, mumbling about a paper and throwing his head and shoulders back in annoyance, grinning at Even before straightening again and disappearing from sight. 

-  
\--  
-

“Rosemary,” Isak says, pointing at a glass spice container. Even looks back and forth at the two, the spice and Isak, neither fully making sense. 

“Rosemary,” he repeats, amused but still not getting the point of Isak’s observation. 

“You should get some, you asked me for it one time,” he says as he drops his hand to his side. Even grins. 

“Well, then maybe _you_ should get some rosemary, Isak, seeing as _you_ were the one that didn’t have any for _me_. You don’t even know how bland dinner was that night, all because you didn’t have rosemary.” Isak snorts and gives him his best eye roll that Even knows is fake, knows it implies endearment. 

“Yeah, it was totally _my_ fault that _I_ didn’t have rosemary for _your_ dinner, Even. Makes sense,” but he picks it up and puts it in their basket with a little giggle. Even taps the basket and nods, beaming at Isak. 

“Okay, what next?” Isak unfolds the paper he’s been fiddling with while they’ve been walking through the store, it’s a wrinkled mess now and Isak squints to read the list. 

“Uhh, we still need olive oil and potatoes,” he folds it back and shoves it into his pocket, taking his hand and rubbing it against his nose a few times, looking down at the basket. Even grins while he observes the cutest boy ever, just doing nothing, just being there, just being there with Even. Isak looks up after a second, oblivious, but when their eyes meet, his brows furrow, a confused smile gracing his cupid-bowed lips. 

“What?” he asks with a tone akin to suspicious but much less serious and much more playful, eyes narrowing while he smirks, head turning to the side but eyes still stuck on Even. 

“Olive oil and potatoes,” Even repeats instead of answering Isak. “Okay, c’mon,” and he takes Isak’s hand while they walk through the aisles with purpose. 

-  
\--  
-

“What does this even _mean_ , Isak?” Even asks, exasperated, flinging his pen across the room, mostly on accident, but his incessant and growing irritation covers it up for him. 

“What is it?” Isak’s voice is calm and curious as he practically crawls to Even from where he’s been lying on his stomach studying, peeking over Even’s shoulder to stare at the textbook and scattered papers in front of him. 

“That’s the thing,” Even sighs, hands in his hair, “I have no idea. It’s probably _supposed_ to be some sort of math, but it’s just- ugh!” He hears Isak chuckle while he gets up to retrieve his pen. “It’s alien language, Isak. It’s not real, it can’t be,” and Isak is laughing more, except now he’s leaning in towards the paper, face scrunched in concentration, his own pen in his hand looking ready to write.

“It’s just finding the derivative of the function. Here,” he scribbles something on the paper, Even watching in awe as he easily finishes the problem (and Even’s trying to learn but he kinda figures it’s a lost cause). 

“It’s just not fair,” Even shakes his head after a moment and sits back down next to Isak, gaze fixated on Isak’s handwriting that marks up the otherwise blank page of his homework.

“What isn’t?” Isak’s looking at him with that puzzled but amused expression, knowing Even isn’t saying everything he wants to and expecting more but hardly asking for it.

“You being the most beautiful person ever _and_ the smartest. Just unfair,” Isak’s blushing before he’s breaking out in the most beautiful _laugh_ ever, and what a pair that is. Person and laugh. And Even gets to witness both. 

-  
\--  
-

It’s never really fully dark in Isak’s room at night. The streetlights from outside lurk until dusk fades into the horizon, and then they quietly sneak inside, hugging against the curtains and staining the fabric and subsequent carpet with their dim but warm, yellow light. It doesn’t really matter though, because Even’s been awake for hours, and his eyes have fully adjusted to the dark, and he’s able to stare, breath placid and deep as he attempts to match it with that of Isak’s, who’s sleeping soundly at his side. 

He’s admiring the certain calm in Isak’s face, the sibling of an expression he’ll sometimes glimpse when they’re alone and Isak doesn’t feel like speaking but instead offers a look of utter adoration, a look fully lost in Even, one he’s not sure Isak’s aware of, but one Even holds dear. Asleep, though, Isak is taken by a different breed of serenity. It’s one that Even is particularly fond of, because Isak is never more untroubled and unbothered than when he’s asleep. He’s so peaceful. And something so simple about his peace gives Even a rejuvenation in an appreciation of life, of his life being spent with Isak in small moments such as these, after having not seen each other for a few days while Isak’s schedule had been absolutely bursting with responsibilities, the both of them deciding to cuddle in bed before Isak’s part of the conversation dissipated as he fell asleep in Even’s arms. 

Isak’s breath is warm as it sinks into the skin of Even’s chest with each exhale, a soft whistle sounding with each inhale. He holds Isak closer. Isak moves, for any reason, Even doesn’t know and honestly doesn’t care because now he’s shifted up, sniffling softly while he nuzzles his nose into Even’s neck, and he can feel his heartbeat pick up against the new pressure pushing at his carotid artery. He almost has to wonder how Isak’s actually asleep at this point, the motion seems so practiced and natural. 

Isak isn't the heaviest of sleepers, either. Frankly, it's a wonder he hasn't woken just by the feeling in the air, of Even's restlessness, of his inability to fall asleep, but more so from the position he’s now in, which can’t be all that comfortable, no matter how _fucking_ cute it is. Even chuckles then, when Isak moves away and rubs his face on his chest and hums so quietly. He's trying, Even will give that to him, he’s trying to wake up, because, as Even suspected, he’s most certainly aware of the atmosphere in the room. Light sleeper. 

"Isak?" He's fallen altogether unresponsive again, as if he really hadn’t been partially roused from his slumber, lips pushed out, cheeks red and warm, and despite maybe lingering thoughts of wanting Isak awake with him, the idea seemed rather sacrilegious at the mere sight of him now (he'd admit he wouldn’t mind the company, though). He smiles down at him, gently playing with his curls. God, he's so in love. _Can he be in love this quickly?_ He is. It's so intense that it almost steals away the wandering thoughts from his head, pushing him so forcefully and wholly towards Isak, without any regard for life outside of his little apartment, outside of the two of them, lying here in the dead of night. So slowly, he leans down to kiss the pale skin at Isak’s temple.

“Mmm,” Isak smiles with lethargic lips, and doesn’t open his eyes with any such urgency that Even feels, almost desperate now to see the green behind the now wrinkled lids.

“You awake?” he whispers against his hair, pecking it for good measure. 

“Mmm, no,” he smiles again, dipping his head down while he finally manages to open his eyes, depriving Even of seeing their color in the process. He frowns- not pouts- until Isak looks up at him, expression decidedly blank, but eyes sparkling with adoration. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Isak whispers back. “What time is it?” he asks with a yawn, stretching his legs under the sheets. Even grabs his phone.

He’s focused on the white numbers against the black screen, it’s like magic, he thinks, that time moves with such a strangely elusive haste when he’s the only one awake in a dormant world, and his response is delayed when he recites the time to Isak. “Three,” he sighs. 

“Can’t sleep?” Even looks to Isak whose eyes are more alert, sleep wearing off as he watches Even with understanding stuck within the green. Even nods. “What usually helps?”

“I don’t know,” Even smiles, “derivatives of functions usually knock me _right_ out, maybe I could do some of those.”

“Ha _ha_ ,” Isak wraps his arms around Even’s waist tightly. “I usually just-” but he stops himself and his eyes momentarily grow wide, shutting his mouth too quickly to avoid Even’s wary perceptions. He recovers, though, and reframes his sentence. “We could listen to music? Like, I don’t know, jazz or something, something calm,” he clears his throat softly.

“Jazz?” Even huffed out a few breaths that were close enough to pass off as laughs. Isak makes an offended noise, but Even knows he’s not. "I didn't think you were one for jazz, Isak."

“Or _something_.” Even reaches for his phone again. 

“Here, I’ll just play a soundtrack. If that won’t bother you?” Isak shakes his head against Even’s chest, so he picks one that’s already on his phone and turns it down to an acceptable volume, one that shifts the tone in the bedroom to one that feels ethereal, like they’re floating amidst the stars.

He wiggles down a little so that his head is closer to Isak’s. Isak whose hand is now stroking through Even’s hair, and that- _that_ and the music swaying around them- that is enough for Even to finally slip into sleep.

Even likes slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay...writer's block.  
> Thank you for reading and thank you again for all of your comments, you're all incredibly sweet! <3


	8. Setback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing's perfect...

Perfection isn’t real. Or- humans aren’t perfect, man-made perfection isn’t real. Even knows, he sees it everywhere, he sees it in himself and in others- but it's within the moments where it’s looming over his head, pushing him towards uncertainty in the goodness of what he has when he knows it more than anything, feels it more than anything. 

It’s not that he isn’t happy- actually, he’s never been more happy. It’s reached a level of peace and contentment like nothing he thought he was allowed to know, and it’s like putting on clothes and the skin underneath forgets it's there, except there’s an air of pleasantness inherent in this peace, a strange tangibility to it. 

It’s more or less that Isak isn’t happy. Which he doesn’t like to think about, doesn’t like to consider, because there aren’t many superficial indications of this, but it’s there- like most things Isak tries to hide...always there but just so repressed and seemingly dormant, seeping out in the smallest of hints. 

The first hint is on a Monday, a Monday where Isak’s been quiet throughout. His lips don’t even work towards the same effort his eyes do, that intermittently stare at Even with the perfectly crafted, artificial amount of enthusiasm that’ll barely-just snuff out his tiredness and dullness that’s oozing from him. He’s hardly touching Even, too, but not in the sense that he’s avoiding it, but instead that it’s just not on his mind. 

Even worries. He’s allowed to do that, especially after the night he knew Isak had- in the middle of the night he had gotten up from Even’s arms in bed and stumbled to the bathroom where through the crack underneath the door where yellow light snuck through, a faded reflection of the line hitting the wall above Even, he’d heard him crying. He’d gotten up too and lightly knocked, but after opening the door for Even, Isak, fiercely independent when he wanted to be, had denied that he’d broken down, and maybe Even could let it pass, because in the low lighting he couldn’t see the redness of Isak’s eyes to confirm anything his ears had picked up. He’d just led Isak back to bed and he’d fallen asleep before anything else was said between the two of them. 

But that next day, that Monday, when nothing was bringing any life back to Isak, Even wasn’t as convinced he’d been right to let it go the previous night.

“Isak,” Even is slow to ask, the name fighting against his teeth that close around the ‘I’. He doesn’t want to push him, but now it’s getting dark outside and Isak’s slumped into Even’s couch with a lifeless frown as his eyes, glazed over, watch the TV, his irises not even so much as twitching. “Are you okay?” It’s so long until Isak glances at him, and the silence has reigned for such a length that Even is about to deem their conversation past the point of surviving. But Isak glances up at him, then sniffles and casts his suddenly misty gaze down, away from Even.

“I-” he begins with another sniffle. He coughs into his elbow and lowers his chin into his chest before he opens his mouth again. “I slept through my alarm on Sunday and so-” another sniffle, so muted with his voice drifting languidly to the floor instead of towards Even. He strains to listen. “I was late to work...which was- was like the tenth time I was late and they-” he shifts uncomfortably, “they fucking fired me.” Even had had theories before, but this wasn’t what he’d expected, or even considered, but it stung like it wasn’t just a job that had been lost. 

He grabbed at Isak a little stupidly, a little childishly, but nonetheless, his hands found Isak’s shoulders and brought him into his chest. 

“Isak-” he attempts, but what is he supposed to say, really?

“It’s- I’m not gonna have money for rent, Even, what am I gonna do?” Isak suddenly sits up, detaching himself from Even, hands in his hair, the panic in his voice sparking Even’s own to squeeze at his heart. He’s rubbing Isak’s shoulder to get him to loosen the tight grasp on his hair, he’s pretty sure it’s painful- it certainly looks it. He’s carefully observing Isak and the slight shake in the muscles of his legs, the paleness of his skin, like sickness now as he’s breathing shallowly. And like he said- humans aren’t perfect, they think of nothing but themselves or they think of nothing but others and there’s no balance, and when Even ponders this, he knows it’s not healthy, but he knows he can’t blame the entire mind for it. Only the parts of it that harbor his love for Isak.

“I’ll pay for this month,” it’s definitely not a restrained suggestion, it’s not one that holds any ambiguity, but the look of Isak’s eyebrows furrowing then, after his eyes had widened, mouth agape, make the doubt creep into him. 

“That’s- that’s not what I was implying you do, Even,” shaking his head, Isak’s frown deepens.

“I know. But I can. I’ll pay for this month and you and I can look for a new job for you.”

“I don’t want you to pay my rent, Even. That’s too generous, that’s too much- you can’t.”

“I want to,” he _can_ , too. He can, but there’s a weak warning in Isak’s tone, and Even understands he’s already crossed a line of sorts and closes his mouth with a nod. 

Isak cries that night, after the silence between the two of them got dense and tiring, almost awkward, and Isak decided to go back to his apartment, listing sleep as his main reasoning. It’s so reminiscent of that first night he heard it, as it softly fell through the thin walls. It was just as heartbreaking, just as painful, but this time was different- so different. They’re friends now- closer than friends, so much closer, and it'd been awhile since the last time, the last time Isak was alone in his apartment, weeping through the night.

Even struggles to find sleep, tossing back and forth, adjusting the sheets as they become a smothering nuisance, hugging his pillow as an inadequate substitute of Isak. 

Isak cries the next night, too. And the next. And it’s a form of torture- probably for both of them- but Even just sends Isak texts, still having not told him that he can hear him through their thin walls- he’s too nervous- and hopes Isak accepts it as a coincidence. _He can do more_ , he knows he can. He can do more than he did when they were still strangers, but he’s grappling with his indecision, with his fear, like facing a task too daunting to even try. He’s not _trying_ and it’s eating him up inside. 

_I’m a dick_ , Even thinks. _I’m a complete dick_.

-

It’s around the fourth night when Even decides to go against Isak’s wishes. Isak was stressing, not sleeping, he hardly talked, his laugh and smile were feeble excuses for what they used to be.

So the next day, Even takes money from his bank account and places it inside an envelope, bringing it down to the landlord and offering an explanation filled with as much outwardly charm as he had in order to convince him that it was Isak’s- though Jon didn’t seem to care either way.

“He’s busy today and asked me to drop it off,” he lied, smiling widely at Jon when he accepted it and gave a nod in acknowledgment. And he felt better, like he’s made a difference, and he goes back to his apartment with a full grin on his face. 

-

It’s the same night that Isak knocks on his door. Even’s been in a good mood since earlier, he’d made dinner, he’d cleaned up around his apartment, he’d drawn a bit, and now Isak was here. It was perfect. But perfect wasn't real.

His cheeks were aching from his smile as he reached for the door. But it faded, muscles relaxing as he felt his joy wilt at the sight of Isak. He looks distraught, eyebrows tight together, eyes red with a dewy gleam of something unreadable but something very eerily close to hurt. His mouth is loosely forming the shape of words but Even can’t hear anything. Even takes his hand and leads him inside. It’s when the door closes that he finally speaks. 

“Even, I- I didn’t want you to do that,” and Even’s heart sinks. He’s quick to defend himself.

“I just wanted to help, and-”

“No!" he yells at first, looking surprised at the volume. "I-” there was that hurt in his eyes, now baring itself without hindrance, but he seemed to be struggling for words, face red and eyes trying to meet Even’s but not lasting when they managed to connect. He was shaking, too, hands at his sides, and Even couldn't tell if was from anger or vulnerability. Even didn't like either possibility. “I told you not to and I was gonna figure it out- I needed to figure it out, Even.” 

“Isak-”

“ _No_ ,” Isak sighed. “I’ll pay you back,” he whispered. Even shook his head, but his mouth was so dry, he couldn’t get it to open for him. Then Isak was walking away from him, into Even’s bedroom, and for a second he relaxed in anticipation of reconciliation, of an opportunity for Even to fix the mess he got them both into, but then he was back in view, a few of Isak's belongings in his hand- a sweatshirt, a beanie, a mug- and Even’s knees suddenly felt very weak, his stomach unsettled, like he could vomit if he didn’t sit down. 

“Isak..”

“I’m actually just gonna go,” and he’s out before Even can even reach out to him, his hand hovering pathetically. Even’s heart is beating louder than his thoughts, thrumming against his chest and neck so violently he thinks it hurts. It does. It hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I have part of chapter nine written so the next update will...NOT be longer than a week (hopefully). Thank you all for the comments (again, I really, really appreciate them) and for reading. It means so much to me!


	9. Alone

Isak doesn’t speak to Even the next few days- utterly ignores him, actually. It’s not hard to manage, he guiltily admits, given how constantly his schedule bombards his life and wills him towards school. It would've been more difficult to avoid Even since he lost his job, but he still left his texts alone, not touching them, not answering his calls or the knocks on his door. There was a distinct hesitancy to leave his apartment when he _was_ home, and he knew it wasn’t subtle- he wasn’t really trying to be anything other than honest. 

Isak was hurt. It felt like a betrayal on both sides- more so on Isak’s than Even’s, and it was like a sharp pain in his chest without letting up, without healing. Even had been generous like no one before him had in Isak’s life. He’d been a friendly face, then a friend, then something carefully more, then someone that was willing to pay his rent while he figured out his financial situation. And yet Isak was still furious. He was furious and embarrassed that he had to put both of them in that situation, that Even had to offer and that Isak had to deny him, and that Even had to bypass Isak’s pleas. It was a mess. It was all a mess because of Isak. Mad at Even because of being too generous, of carrying out an act of immense kindness without consulting Isak or listening to what he wanted- what he needed. And what a strange, complex contradiction was that! An act of kindness bitterly married with a betrayal of trust. And he was mad at himself because he was mad at Even, because now he had to pay someone he cared for back, had to look him in the eye and give him something he didn’t have much of, that Even knew he didn’t have much of.

It was deep inside where his insecurities and faulty confidence lie, where everything was violently churning against his skull in a perpetual headache of conflict and frustration. Even and not Even. It’s funny, Isak thinks, that the one person who he could talk to in order to sort out the disarray in his head was Even. Even, the one person he couldn't talk to. 

-

Isak knows he has to find a job, with or without his rent paid, this was a necessity. He has close to nothing left to afford food, he’s stressed for his next payment, and his dad still isn’t answering him. And right now, of all the other times that now stand so stark against this familiar moment of desperation, it seems to Isak that he deserves this treatment more than anything else- maybe has the whole time. He’s ungrateful, isn’t he? His problem is still ever-present, his bank account ever-dry, but his entitlement towards his father’s money...now at the forefront, regardless of a personal sense of justice in asking for money from his dad. 

He wishes he could go to Even, take him up on the offer to help him look for a job. It isn’t as though he’s incapable of doing it himself, but he misses Even despite everything and he wants the company, the support, the care. But he’s determined to pay him first, he’s determined to get this out of the way before he can talk to Even, before he can face him. 

It’s stupid, Isak knows it is, because it only takes him a few days to find something. It’s still part-time and the pay is even slightly better. It’s stupid because it’s almost like this whole shitshow was a blessing in disguise. And yet he’s still alone. 

He heads to the interview alone, too. Everything alone. It’s in and out, he even gets a call later that same day with the manager that confirms that he’s gotten the job and starts that Wednesday. He glances at his phone and then to Isak and Even’s shared wall and considers sharing the joy and relief that’s displaced some of the pain, but he’s not ready yet. His head isn’t fully clear and he worries he’s not thinking straight- worries he’s either being too easy on Even or not hard enough on himself. 

-

He asks for some double shifts at the library where he got the job, which they grant. It’s stifling, working and going to school now occupying the expanse of his life, like there’s nothing more to it than that- like it had been before Even, but so much more damning now that he’s missing a part of what he could have- of what’s realistically waiting for him right next door. It’s amazing what is missed when it’s gone, even when Isak is the one to have made it disappear. 

-

It takes a while- far too long, but Isak has enough for rent and to pay Even. Isak hardly knows how he usually feels- has a disgusting relationship with his own emotions, they’re estranged and distant and taunting and they seemingly conspire to confuse him, but he knows now what he feels, knows what he wants, and all he can hope is that Even understands, that Even knows he needed the time to figure himself out in order to move on.

He’s standing in front of Even’s door, shaking with his hands curled tightly into nervous fists, unable to knock as he’s paralyzed with fear. _If_ Even opens the door- he’ll scowl at him, snort at his words, his feelings, slam the door on his face and reject him. Part of Isak would find that reasonable- he’s ignored him for weeks, it’s not the kindest thing to do, especially after the reason, especially after the kindness of Even’s actions- it wouldn’t make sense to most, what Isak’s done. But he’s still clinging onto any hope as he knocks, the money in his pocket is enough to spur him on. If Even rejects him, then at least he was able to pay him back, and maybe he can live with that, even if it’s a while before he’s okay again. 

It’s a moment of misery while he waits for something to happen, not looking towards the peephole he hopes Even isn’t looking through, instead fixated on his shoes. After what could’ve been eternities in this hell, he hears Even’s lock unlatch and suddenly he’s face to face with him, who’s looking breathless. His eyes are sparkling and there’s shock all over his features at first, until his smile starts to grow and it’s like there’s no stopping it, his teeth practically blinding as they’re displayed in Isak’s favorite way. And _oh my god_ , could Isak cry right now at the sight. He smiles back- can’t help it, but lowers his gaze and reaches into his pocket. He knows Even is following his movements, so he’s certain he knows what’s coming before it’s fully put into Even’s palm. 

“I owed you,” Isak whispers, feeling not embarrassment but the sheer exposure of such an intense stare. There’s daunting silence, so he dares to glance up. Even is still grinning, the fondness in his eyes almost mistaken for tears, and then he’s lunging forward and grabbing hold of Isak, pulling him in and squeezing him so tight, _exuding_ all the love Isak hoped Even still had- but doubted after the distance Isak wedged between them. He didn’t want to hope anymore, he just wanted to _have_ , so he finally relaxed and held Even back, hearing the vibrations of a gentle chuckle against his shoulder where Even’s neck was against. 

“Isak!” Even shouts, not unkind, but so _fucking fondly_. Isak doesn’t let go, though, just hugs him tighter. “Isak, Isak, Isak!” Even repeats, laughing, and Isak can’t help but giggle at how ridiculous it sounds, at how wonderful it sounds, at how much he needed to hear Even’s voice again, and at how much he had wanted Even to say his name again. 

They stumble inside because neither want to let go, to separate. It’s silly and ineffective, but neither care. They miraculously reach the couch without any incident, without falling or banging their limbs against sharp objects. They’re laughing the whole way and still as they both tumble on the cushions, Isak below Even who _still_ doesn’t let go. He’s not being crushed, even if the weight is slightly burdensome, he’s being caged in with this warmth that alleviates the pressure until it’s nothing but happiness. 

Even bores his gaze into him, his eyes flicking from side to side and all around, taking Isak in with love, breathless love like it’s above it, like it doesn’t live or die, like it’s just too pure and full for any harm to be inflicted upon it. Like it never left even when Isak did. 

He suddenly can’t hold Even’s gaze anymore. So Even leans in and hugs him more, nuzzles his nose into Isak’s neck, hums and smiles against his skin. Like _it’s okay, Isak. It’s okay_. Isak sighs in contentment and nuzzles back, letting his eyes shut and letting his nerves and nose and ears take over his senses, depriving him of something he can visually lose, but not something he can physically lose, not right now. 

“It’s okay,” Even whispers, and it takes a moment for Isak to realize it wasn’t in his head this time. “It’s okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is back but I'm going to try to update weekly. Thanks for sticking with this! :)


	10. Home

If maybe the room is hot or cold, they don’t notice. Maybe the roof is leaking as the rain water forces itself towards the ground through the layers of insulation and wood, gravity the ever-forceful factor of control. They don’t notice.

It’s the soft and thin and pale skin that Even notices, that’s around Isak’s eyes and nose and lips. He’s marveling at how the brightness and uncertainty gives the greens of his irises a strange turbidity that’s so subtle and so very _Isak_ that Even can’t help but grab him into his arms tighter. He smiles at him and watches in wonder as Isak reflexively mirrors him, and while his eyes don’t change their stubborn tone, his cheeks are reddening, his eyebrows relaxing, his shoulders loosening as tension leaves him.

His apartment had never been small or even bordering on the feeling. It’s always been a perfect fit, despite his small complaints. Even with Isak- honestly it seemed to be even built for the two of them. But him leaving, though only returning to him what had been before his presence, it felt like it was broken suddenly, the walls squeezing together as they collapsed, making everything claustrophobic- a fear Even never knew he had. Now that Isak was back, it’s home again. Really home. The realization is a relief, a breath of air that had been so sparse when he wasn’t with him- with him like this. 

“Isak,” he says again, and it’s not a way to get his attention, not a way to start a conversation, but instead to just have it on his tongue again, to hear himself say it. It seems that Isak understands this, because he hums in response, and that, too, is not a gateway to something further, only an acknowledgement. 

He nuzzles his head into Isak’s neck, getting closer- as if the space between them, however minuscule, wishes nothing but malice, and eliminating it gives them total peace, vanquishes their troubles. Isak sighs but Even doesn’t hear it, doesn’t hear the tone within it that begs to be heard, so Isak sighs again, and this time Even notices. He squeezes Even but pushes away after a moment, sitting up on the couch and rebuilding the space they’d killed. 

“Isak?” and this time the name holds meaning, obligates a response. Isak looks tired- nervous? Definitely- as his breathing picks up, his eyes fight to maintain contact with Even, his upper teeth biting his lower lip. Even tilts his head to the side. And Isak erupts. 

“I just- I don’t know...I felt guilty and mad about being mad at you, but I was still mad at you, y’know?” Even sat back, a little dumbfounded at the sudden confession. “I knew it was- Even, honestly, it was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me...but it was also something I didn’t want you to do,” he sighs again, like maybe one more breath like this and the words will come out more succinct and to the point. Even nods, a little frozen otherwise. “It made me feel like I was useless, and I don’t think it was totally because of you...I feel like that a lot, it was just...more… _there_.” Isak waits in case Even wants to comment, to tell him he’s right...or rather that he’s wrong. But Even’s still listening, and maybe Isak needs that. “I’m sorry for avoiding you, because I know you meant well- more than that, really...I just- needed to pay you back first, to take time to think everything through so I wasn’t doing anything that wasn’t what I wan-” he bites the inside of his lower lip as he thinks, “wasn’t what I needed.” 

It takes Even a minute where he feels a little like nothing, like he’s only Isak’s words, absorbing them, breathing them in. Then he feels the smile creep up on him. Small and gentle. Isak gazes at him warily. 

“You didn’t have to explain- I mean I’m glad you did, but you didn’t owe it to me, Isak. I’m just glad you’re back.” Isak’s chin was pointed down, but Even spotted a shy smile. One he hadn’t seen for a while, not since they’d started being friends. 

“I didn’t talk to you for weeks, Even,” he whispered, but there wasn’t any fight in it, it was like he was trying to get Even to be mad at him, but only because he thought he should want Even to react with anger, not because he _really_ wanted to.

“No, you didn’t. I get it though, I fucked up,” he nodded his head once, “I did.” Isak looks up at him with a full grin now, no shyness, no reservations. His eyes are sparkling, those pretty, dark greens staring into Even. 

“I found a job, though,” Isak’s voice picks up suddenly, excitement bubbling through. 

“You did?” Even asks, but it sounds like it’s inching towards a genuine exclamation of enthusiasm, a modified reiteration of the fact, and Isak nods and his hair bounces lightly.

They stare at each other before Even pulls Isak in, laughing with so much joy, pure joy. They exist within it for a blissful moment, caught wonderfully in nothing but the sincerity and intensity of the emotion. And the moment turns into long minutes, into longer ones, into hours, and it’s all blended together somehow, and they’ve become warm and they’ve become one as the day dwindles down and the room darkens and visually shrinks. Yet they can stretch their limbs in the gloom, it blankets them rather than suffocates. It shifts and expands for them, so that when Isak speaks, it breaths and lifts away so that Even can hear him. 

“Fuck slow. I don't want to take this slow anymore.” Even's grinning while he runs fingers through Isak's hair, entranced in him. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh...I've returned. I hope you enjoy the new chapter and thank you so much for enduring whatever wait you may (or may not) have had.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It's been a loooonnngg time since I've had the courage to post anything and would love to hear any feedback.  
> And again, check out @evaesheim!


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